


Try Try Try

by TrishaCollins



Series: Babysitting And Other Royal Duties [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cor is trying, Gen, baby prompto, dad cor, dubious nutrition, he is alive that is all Cor care about, the care and feeding of bioweapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 09:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: After the successful theft of one humanish infant, Cor stops to take stock of his situation.





	Try Try Try

They spent the first night ducking and covering while the entire northern front scanned the area for them.

The kid was small enough that he could warp with him, no problem, but he was trying to avoid it.

Dematerializing had to be terrifying for a baby. 

Despite the occasional whimper, the baby had been quiet. He kept him tucked into the carry sack, with his body pressed against his chest.

He was breathing and alive, and that was really all he had time to keep track of. The nifs were mad as hell.

He might have gone a little overboard with the explosives. But he had been pretty mad when he had wired the lab, so he was sure he could be forgiven for excess. He had not been quick enough to disguise the theft, which made him more worried about the patrols. 

When they finally had time to stop, it was at an out of the way haven, which had a stream that cut close enough he would have plenty of clean water to wash them both with.

They were both pretty rank. The kid had been shitting and pissing in the sack while they hid, the fabric was soaked through and fouled.

He was quiet as he unwrapped him, washing him off with a clean cloth getting the scum off his skin and also taking the time to gently scrub away the remaining sticky stuff.

He expected tears, a fuss, some protest at the indignity of a whores bath in the wilderness, but the kid was quiet. His eyes were just as unusually blue as he remembered, skin so pale he doubted the kid had ever seen the sun in his life. Those eyes stayed on his face the entire time, sleepy baby seemingly facinated by him. The eyes were tracking better now, occasionally drifting from here to there as he was washed, but always returning to stare up at him. 

"I know, kiddo. I look weird." He told the child.

The baby startled a bit, blinking at him.

"Sound weird too?" He questioned, using a spare shirt to diaper him. 

The baby squirmed a tiny bit, hand opening and closing without grasping, eyes huge and round.

He touched the tiny face. "I guess they never talked to you much, did they? I'm not a great talker, but I'll try. We need to get some food in you. Think you're up for that?"

No response from the baby, just more of those wide blue eyes staring at him.

He mixed up some milk, warming it and watering it down before he tried to feed it to the tiny guy, using a metal cup that he tested twice against his wrist.

The first attempt was a horrible failiure. It dripped right out of his mouth, and whatever made it in there made him choke and cough.

He tried a spoon next, because he didn't have a bottle and he'd thought Regis had said something about Noctis using a cup and spoons.

He got more into him, but the baby choked again.

Trial and error had him fishing through almost every tool he had ever stashed in the Armiger over the past fifteen years, before he finally found a dropper and managed to get most of the cup of milk I to the baby.

Within fifteen minutes, the baby had thrown up most of what he had eaten, which required another bath and another change of clothes.

The baby looked about as miserable as he felt, curling against his chest with a sad little whimper.

He disolved a cracker in water and fed him that, which seemed to satisfy him. At least there were fluids and salt? Then he tried crunching up a cracker in water with a splash of milk, which the baby ate and threw up again.

"I can't just feed you crackers." He muttered to the exhausted child, after doing just that. Softened with water to make a weird, mild gruel.

The baby closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against his shirt.

"Alright. We'll stop for now." He used a blanket to make a makeshift sling, and did laundry, combing his mind for anything Cid or Regis had said that help him.

The baby kept the cracker down at least, and willingly let him dropper more of the tasteless mixture down his throat when woke an hour later.

Milk was better for babies. Calcium and iron and nutrients they needed to grow. But something was better than nothing.

By the time he had packed up camp, he had successfully fed the baby the cracker gruel twice, been pooped on once, thrown up on twice when he tried the milk again with different mixes and managed to get all of the clothes and blankets washed again.

They were off to a truly fantastic start of this journey.


End file.
